The One After Chandler Sings
by greenish orange
Summary: [Complete] At least Monica thought it was sexy. CM.


**A/N: **Although _TOW Ross Can't Flirt_ takes place when everyone knows about C/M, I couldn't help but tweak the timing a bit for my own personal amusement. So there you go. Yes, I know it's very short, but I figured you guys could take a break from all the drama – after all, we _Friends_ fans _are_ fond of the silliness.

-

"Hey Chandler, do it again, make your sexy face," said Phoebe enthusiastically. If she had been any other girl I would have been, well, _exuberant _to boast 'Chandler' and 'sexy' in the same sentence, bit as this girl was Phoebe and she had been known to befriend rats and stab cops, nothing she said was a surprise to anyone.

"No, I don't think so," I said, leaning back against the couch.

Monica poked me playfully. "C'mon, you know you want to!"

I looked into her face, raised my eyebrows, and shook my head.

"You didn't mind when it was Joey," she teased, going back to her coffee with a smirk.

"Okay, first of all, that was _one time_! And, secondly, for the love of God leave me at least a _remnant _of my masculinity!"

All three girls grinned wickedly at me. I could have killed Joey for making that stupid home video. It hadn't been my fault – and at least I had spared everyone the chagrin of hearing his version of "Bohemian Rhapsody", complete with a harmonica and a drum solo. I swore Freddie Mercury turned over in his grave that night.

"_I _thought your David Bowie was very sexy," said Monica. I felt myself sit up a little straighter and check impulsively under my fingernails for dirt. I wanted to ask, "Really?" but even in my head it sounded needy, so instead I settled for "You're welcome," and wallowed in my own mortification. Inarticulacy has never been a problem with me around friends, but that was before I began to see Monica in a bedroom more than anywhere else combined.

"If that's how you conclude sex, I think we've solved all your relationship issues," Rachel commented out of the blue. Monica laughed and I felt my face grow hot. There is nothing like a swift kick when you're down. Monica must have sensed this, though, because as soon as Rachel went back to her magazine I felt Monica's hand close around mine and squeeze reassuringly.

The thing about my relationship with Monica is that every day is like one huge surprise. I can't believe that she picked me, and most importantly, I can't believe she endured me for over six months. But I guess we're just so terrible at relationships we cancel each other out. At least that's my pragmatic explanation for this phenomenon. All other reasons would have my five friends, Monica included, laughing all the way to Timbuktu. That is, if they knew about us.

At this point, all thoughts flew from my head as Monica's hand slipped away and came to rest casually on my thigh. Evidently Rachel and Phoebe didn't notice that time, but I had to wonder how long our trysts would continue before someone put two and two together. I mean, even Joey figured it out. _Joey_!

It's the little stuff like this that makes me wonder how much of our sexual escapades are like strategy games to her. Not that it's a bad thing – other people may find her competitiveness overbearing, but I personally think it's endearing. Toeing the line in this way probably gives her some feeling of self-achievement or something. And I can live with self-esteem.

Phoebe and Rachel were teasing me again, but I wasn't able to concentrate with Monica's hand tracing light patterns. And, really, who can blame me? It was hard enough keeping this relationship a secret (and, now that I think about it, appropriate in public) . . . resisting an urge to jump her then and there was simply commendable.

"What's wrong, Chandler? You look preoccupied," said Monica. I gave her a glare and her hand traveled further up my thigh. I sucked in my breath and looked over instinctively at Rachel and Phoebe, who had unmistakably bored of me, but they were miraculously involved in their own conversation and didn't notice Monica's advances. I could hear Phoebe absently humming the tune to "Major Tom".And by that timeMonica herself was laughing at me.

She leaned forward, close enough to whisper in my ear, "You're singing to me tonight, Chandler Bing, whether you like it or not."

Sure, I'm okay with that.


End file.
